


Behind the Red Door

by sunnyautumnmorning



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyautumnmorning/pseuds/sunnyautumnmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a little cottage, he waits for you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Red Door

**Author's Note:**

> A little fluff that came to mind...  
> Might not be your cuppa, but at the moment it was mine, sigh.

For the past eight months, on a Tuesday afternoon, near the middle of each month, he would drive there, to a small cottage with a red door, down a small winding road, past a small village that had sprung up, just over the rise from a small village.  
It was hidden away from view, behind a thick grove of cedars and tall pines, set well enough back, that unless someone knew it was there, they would miss it.

He would let himself in with a key, hidden under a small stone, found near the front walkway and he would start the fire in the hearth, carefully tending it until it glowed and then sprang to life. Then, he would slowly feed it wood, until he was satisfied.

He would then go to the well outside, to the old-fashioned hand well pump, enjoying the sights and smells of the surrounding woods and fill the bucket with icy cold water that came from springs from under the nearby mountains, running freely over stones and down cliffs until it sank beneath the ground to collect in the well and to be captured by him.

He would return to the cottage and place some of the water in a cast iron pot for later and the rest in an antique silver-colored kettle and then he would place it on the hook by the fire to boil and once it had, he would make tea and he would wait.   
He would wait for you to arrive.

You would arrive, just after the kettle boiled and you would embrace.   
He would pull you close to his chest, chasing away any feelings of awkwardness, brushing back your hood to reveal your hair.

Your hair would shine in the light from the candles and oil lanterns, that he had lit in anticipation of your arrival. He loved the color of it and the scent of your shampoo. He would lay his head on the top of yours and hold you, breathing in your scent, just holding you tenderly.

You would then move away from him and remove your coat, hanging it on the peg by the door and then you would take the basket of food you always brought and set it on the table and unpack it for your supper.  
It was nothing elaborate, just some of your favorite’s that you had discovered that you both had in common. You would find them, at the little village, in a tiny shop that made everything from local fresh produce and there was always a treat for dessert, much to his delight.

You would sit at the little wooden table, that looked out the back of the cottage, overlooking a small carefully and lovingly tended flower garden and you would eat together, speaking on what you had both done, and on how your lives were going.  
It was all very polite and perhaps it might have seemed, to outsiders, a little sterile or almost clinical, but nonetheless it brought you closer and gave you comfort.

You could be yourselves and not have to be the people that others expected you to be.

You were both glad to have this time together and the bond that was created was just as strong as if you had been lovers, but you weren’t that, not yet and not from lack of want, but more of just wanting to get to know each other before either of you took a step in a direction that could never be returned from or from something that would swallow you both whole and you would never surface from.

He then stood and cleared the dishes away taking them to the sink, letting the hot water from the pot by the fire run over them as he washed them and set them aside to dry before placing them back on their places on the shelves.

He announced he was making tea and you said you would gladly accept a cup and you would share dessert, then sit back and enjoy the steaming cup while he explained about his latest project as you listened with genuine interest.

He grew animated in his gestures and made some jokes that made you laugh and realize that you cherished this man and his antics. He never failed to lift you from a dark mood if you had been in one and he knew that you did the same for him, just by smiling and being yourself.

As you finished your tea, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour and you both felt the tug of the outside world, knowing it would be all too soon for you to return back to your separate worlds until you met again.

He secretly wished that you could stay, here hidden away in the cottage, behind the red door, away from the world and its demands.

He wondered if you felt the same and without asking he could see the answer reflected on your face as you stared at the clock.

You sat and spoke a few more hours, moving to the overstuffed couch by the fire, curling up close together and relishing the time that you had left.

You rose and took your cup to the sink and washed it, and then carefully set it on the shelf amongst the other dishes then turning to him, you sighed as your eyes were drawn to the clock.

He rose from his chair and took your hands in his, looking down at them in his and then he took one of his hands and tilted up your chin, gazing into your eyes.

He bent slowly forward and kissed your lips, his just grazing yours, but still it was a kiss.

Your hands went to his neck and then into his hair as you pulled him down closer and pressed yourself against him.

He felt you shiver either from a chill or from fear at your closeness, and he pulled you closer into his arms, trying to ward away any fear of misunderstanding, or fear of where this might be headed.

You clutched his arms and drew back, shyly smiling up at him, then standing on tip toe, you kissed his cheek and then was gone to the peg on the wall that held your coat.

He nodded as you drew the garment around yourself and taking the basket from the table by the door you touched the doorknob but not before smiling at him sending his heart thudding in his chest.

You opened the door and left him there, standing in the little cottage, listening to the sound of the kettle ticking as it cooled.

He went and sat by the fire for a while, waiting for the fire to die down and thinking about you and what he wanted. He was not sure if he could go down that road, but he knew he wanted to try if only given the opportunity.

He went to the hearth and stirred the embers around and watched as the last of the tiny glows of fire dissipated.

He went to the door and opened it, then carefully locked it behind himself and replaced the key under the small stone for next time.

As he walked to his car, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest as he thought on your smile and he wished that he had said something to you about staying, or about you as a couple or something that would have maybe eased this feeling that now held him in its grip, leaving him feeling alone and worse than when he had arrived.

He turned the key in the lock of the car and lifted his head as he heard a car approaching.

It crept closer onto the drive then stopped a short distance from his.

You had returned.

You sat for a moment, knuckles white on the steering wheel, watching him from behind the windshield then you opened the door and stepped out of the car, holding to the door of the car as you looked at him.

He nervously ran a hand through his brown hair as his brows came together and he formed the word _‘what’_ on his lips.

You shut the door of the car and strode towards him then threw your arms around his waist, holding fast to him and not saying anything.

He took you arms gently from around your waist and forced you back just a little so he could look at your face. He could see the tears at the corner of your eyes.

He crushed you to his chest, stroking your hair and speaking soothing words of comfort.

Then he turned, with you under his arm and led you back to the little cottage, where he retrieved the key from under the little stone on the walkway and unlocked the door.

You entered the little cottage, together, shutting the red door behind you, closing it to a world that could wait.


End file.
